There is Nothing like a Dame A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright© 2017, 2018 & 2019 Bronwen Welsh A sequel to 'The Might-Have-Been Girl' and 'All the World's a Stage'

Chapter 52   O.H.M.S.

Reggie's eyes widened as he read out loud from the paper I had passed to him.

“'An Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire,” he read. “For services to the performing arts and especially the encouragement of developing actors and singers through the establishment and on-going support of the Youth Theatre in Stratford-Upon-Avon!' Why Harriet, they're giving you an OBE; this is wonderful news!”

“But Reggie it's too soon!” I cried. “This is the sort of award they give to retiring civil servants together with a gold watch.”

Reggie laughed. “Not any more they don't. Remember the Beatles got one each, or was it an MBE, I can't remember. Anyway, they were about your age. Nowadays they are even giving knighthoods and damehoods to sporting stars who are not much older than you. No, this is richly deserved and I hope you are going to accept it?”

“The bit about the Youth Theatre worries me since it wasn't an original idea; I picked it up while performing at the Globe Theatre in London. As for my support of it, Madge Browning has done far more than I have; I only help when I'm in Stratford and that's not all the time. If I've been given this award and she's got nothing, how can I look her in the eye? She'll be nice about it of course because that's the person she is, but I will feel terrible.”

Now Reggie is a wise man. It's not the first time I've written this, but it deserves repeating.

“Why don't you ring Dame Emily and ask her advice?” he said. “I know it's supposed to be kept confidential, but you can rely on her not to say anything.”

Dame Emily had trusted me with her mobile phone number, but I used it very sparingly as I didn't want her to regret giving it to me.

“That's a great idea, but I'm not sure where she is at present. The last I heard she was going to shoot a film in Spain but I don't know if she's still there and of course there's a big time difference between here and there.”

“So send her a text and ask what time would be most convenient for you to ring her,” said Reggie. That was a great suggestion, so that's what I did.

When I am away from home, I put my phone on the bedside cabinet just in case of emergencies and it was about six o'clock the following morning that it woke me with a beep signalling a text from Dame Emily. She was indeed in Spain where it was now the evening of the previous day and she was able to speak to me if I rang her straight away.

I slipped quietly out of bed, careful not to disturb Reggie who was in a deep sleep and tiptoed into the ensuite bathroom before ringing her. After exchanging greetings, she asked me how I was and then how the season in Melbourne was going; it seemed she knew more about what I was doing than I did about her. I explained that it was going well with a week's extension, and also about the masterclasses and the recital.

“That's excellent news, Harriet,” she said. “So what is it you want to talk to me about? Is there a problem?”

I told her about the OBE and how concerned I was that Madge might be getting nothing although she was doing the majority of the work at the Youth Theatre.

“It would be so unfair,” I said. “I really couldn't face her if that happened. She's an excellent teacher and deserves recognition.”

It was true that Madge was very self-effacing and had spent almost her whole career in small parts or being understudy, often to Dame Emily with whom she was great friends. She would never be a 'star', in fact she didn't want to be, but she was an excellent teacher, unlike some people who may be brilliant in their field but are hopeless at passing their wisdom on to others.

“You realise that offers of awards must be confidential of course,” said Dame Emily. “So this conversation never happened. In the same way, if Madge had spoken to me recently, I couldn't possibly tell you what was said. What I will say is that you have nothing to worry about, so go ahead and accept your OBE, you really deserve it.”

“Thank you very much, Dame Emily,” I said. She had answered my question without me asking it.

“Come and have afternoon tea with me the next time we are both in London and bring that young man of yours with you.”

“I will indeed, Dame Emily and thank you again.”

“Don't thank me,” she said with a laugh. “Didn't I tell you this phone call never happened?”

When I slipped back into bed with Reggie, he stirred and murmured “Are you alright?”

“I am now,” I said as I snuggled up to him.

“Good,” he said as he wrapped his arms around me.

About midday on Saturday, Aunt Peggy and family arrived from 'Yack' and I was there to meet them. We all had lunch together. Flora was particularly excited about seeing the play as she loved theatre. Aunt Peggy was also keen, although I wasn't so sure about the two Rons, senior and junior. I hoped that after the performance they might have changed their minds. I know that some actors are really nervous when they know that family or friends are in the audience, but it always inspired me to give the best possible performance.

I had booked two rooms for the McDonalds, both with two single beds. After their drive of around four hours, they were ready for an afternoon siesta, and Reggie was yawning again, so he needed a rest. I also had my usual two-hour siesta before going to the theatre to prepare for the performance. Unfortunately, with the heavy seat bookings for all the performances, I couldn't get a seat for Reggie next to the McDonalds, but he wasn't too far away and would be able to meet up with them during the interval.

The performance went very well, and after it was over, Aunt Peggy and Flora came to my dressing room, while the two Rons and Reggie waited outside until I had changed and adjusted my makeup.

“You were amazing,” said Flora, and Aunt Peggy said she was in agreement.

“I know it's only a play but you were so convincing in the death scene that I felt my heart thump and I couldn't hold back the tears,” Flora continued. “You mustn't tell them but I'm sure that Dad and Ron weren't far off crying too.”

I promised that it would be our secret. Once I had changed, we met up with 'the boys' and went to supper at a local supper club that stayed open late.

It had been a while since I last saw Ron junior and he had grown still taller. A handsome young man, he was painfully shy, especially around women. I also felt that he was in awe of his older cousin who could perform on a stage in front of over a thousand people. For this reason, I carefully stage-managed the seating at our supper table, placing 'the boys' at one end of the table and 'the girls' at the other. I was so glad that Reggie was there as he and Ron junior had something in common; they were both keen amateur sportsmen, playing cricket and football. As I had hoped, Ron junior soon came out of his shell and was conducting a conversation with his father and Reggie about the finer points of Australian Rules football, a game played with an oval ball and bearing some resemblance to rugby, at least to my uneducated eyes!. Reggie was genuinely interested, having seen a few games on television, and enjoyed talking to someone who actually played it.

We were due to pay a visit to the McDonalds in Yackandandah after the season finished, and I heard Ron junior promise to take Reggie to the local football oval and let him try out some kicks. We three women were aware of what was going on but were careful not to show too much interest. What did we talk about? I have no idea but put three women together and they will always find plenty to say!

It was very late when we returned to the hotel, especially so for farmers who were used to getting up early, so we arranged to meet for breakfast as late as possible before the McDonalds started their journey back to 'Yack'. A neighbour had kindly offered to look after the farm for a day, but they didn't want to impose too much as he had his own property to look after.

As we said 'au revoir', Ron junior surprised me by exchanging kisses on the cheek. He is very close to his sister which is a really good thing. I must confess I was concerned that some totally unsuitable young woman would set her sights on him, but Flora promised me she wouldn't let this happen.

“I have some girlfriends who would make excellent farmers' wives,” she told me. “When the time comes, I'll see that he gets the right woman.”

I trusted her to make this happen; she's a very sweet girl but I would also class her as a 'steel magnolia' and more than a match for a 'gold digger'.

While I was performing for the final week of the play, Reggie occupied himself sightseeing in Melbourne and the surrounding countryside on day bus trips. He visited the museum at the Melbourne Cricket Ground, more commonly known locally as the 'MCG' or even just 'the G', and combined it with a tour of the ground itself, including the famous 'Long Room', players' change rooms and even a walk beside the 'hallowed turf' (his words not mine). I confess my interest in sport only relates to Reggie playing it, so I'm glad he was able to visit there on his own and spend as much time as he liked.

The final performance arrived. Reggie had offered to come along again which pleased me. I was able to get him quite a good seat which had been returned due to someone being ill. When the final curtain came down after a standing ovation and thunderous applause, there was a reception for the cast and crew and I was able to take Reggie to it. There were numerous toasts and many nice things said about everyone's performance during the season and then it was finally time to say goodbye. It was flattering to be asked to return at some future date and I promised to do my best.

As we returned to the hotel, a message arrived on my phone which Reggie had kept, with the sound turned off of course. It was from Richard my agent and said as follows:

'R&J film to go ahead. Pls ring ayc. Rick.' I took 'ayc' to mean 'at your convenience'.

This was exciting news as I had nearly given up on it. Since it was daytime in England, I rang him straight away and he told me that shooting would start in about eight weeks' time. Some exteriors would be actually shot in Verona, but most of the interiors would be photographed at Pinewood Studios just outside London. Shooting would take about three months. I explained about my promise of another week with Reggie in Australia and he said it was not a problem.

“You don't have to learn your lines after all!” he said. He explained that Richard Jenkins was on a tight schedule, so the scenes in which he appeared would be shot first when we returned to England. I asked about other cast members and was told that Dame Emily would be playing my nurse and Leon McKeen would play Friar Lawrence. In fact there were a number of other well-known names so it was a 'star-studded' cast, which of course would help with the box office returns. Films always cost a lot of money to make and on the subject of money he told me what he had negotiated for me and I was quite shocked. Was I really worth that much? Of course it made me feel anxious that my performance would bring in the paying public, and I expressed my doubts to Richard.

Richard laughed. “Of course you're worth it!” he said

The following morning after a hearty breakfast, we checked out and loaded our suitcases into a hire car which had been delivered to the hotel. Our first stop would be Yackandandah to visit Aunt Peggy and family, and after that, we were going to drive up to Sydney via Canberra before flying back to England. I had changed Reggie's return Business Class ticket to First Class so that we could sit together, and also altered our point of departure from Melbourne to Sydney. One advantage of flying First Class is that airlines are even more accommodating than usual.

Reggie drove the first leg while I navigated, not that there was much to do when we reached the Hume Highway, the major road between Melbourne and Sydney, which we followed for much of the way. I know there's an old saying that 'men won't ask directions and women can't read maps'. Well this woman can read maps. Whether there is a reason for this, something to do with my past, I am not sure. At the standard speed limit of 100kph, around 60mph, the journey takes around three and a half hours, but we did stop for a coffee break along the way.

The name 'Yackandandah' derives from an Aboriginal word meaning 'one boulder on top of another at the junction of two creeks'. When we drove down the pretty tree-lined main street of 'Yack', as the locals call it, I looked out for the service station where we were to meet Aunt Peggy who would guide us to the farm. I had phoned ahead to let her know our approximate arrival time, and suddenly there she was, standing beside the farm 'ute', which is a small cabin truck with an open tray at the back, much used by farmers and tradesmen in Australia. After the usual greetings, she drove down several dirt roads with us following close behind. I'm not sure how easy it would have been for us to find the farm, even with my map-reading skills!

Finally, she turned off and up a winding driveway. Eventually, a large white-painted weatherboard house with wide verandahs surrounding it came into view and Aunt Peggy pulled up outside the front door.

We got out and Reggie took hold on one of the suitcases where I had packed all that we should need for a few days' stay. We were led through the cool interior with high ceilings and into the kitchen where the delicious smell of a roast dinner tantalised our nostrils. Flora was busy at the bench, but as soon as she saw us she walked up and gave us both a hug. “Welcome to Yack,” she said. “Lunch is nearly ready. Dad and Ron are busy out the back but they should be here any minute.”

As if on cue we heard the sound of them entering the house, kicking off their workboots at the door. More hugs followed. The change in Ron junior was amazing. In Melbourne he had been a fish out of water, but here on the farm, he was in his element and totally relaxed. From when he was a small boy he had never wanted to be anything else but a farmer, and now that he had left school, he was his dad's righthand man.

In no time we were sitting down to a delicious homemade roast lamb dinner. Because of my occupation, I have spent a lot of time staying in hotels, and although the standard of meals is generally very good, and in the case of the Windsor Hotel, excellent, I can assure you that they all pale in comparison to great home cooking. We all complimented Flora on her culinary skills and I was sure that she was now a great help to her mother who would sorely miss her when she went off to nursing school.

Ron junior was especially glad to see Reggie and had some news for him.

“Our local footy team is training on Monday evening. I told them about you playing sport and they've invited you to come along and join in. Dad's got some old footy gear from when he played with them which he thinks will fit you and if our spare boots don't fit, I'm sure there will be some down at the club”

Reggie was genuinely interested in having a try at this game which was so different from the round ball code, which in Australia is known as soccer. He had listened intently to the two Rons and had already picked up some of the terminology like 'goals' and 'behinds', 'marks' and the fact that the games' officials were 'umpires' and not 'referees' What's more there were up to three of them on the field and one at each goal, as well as boundary umpires. Compared to British football or soccer where there is only one referee and two linesmen who have to try and keep up with the game, the Australian version seemed to be very well policed!

After lunch, Reggie and I had a rest after our drive from Melbourne The guest bedroom was a light and airy room with a very comfortable bed and so it wasn't surprising that we fell asleep for a couple of hours.

The McDonalds ran a dairy farm, something I was happy about. You may call me a hypocrite since I do sometimes eat meat, like on this occasion, but I much preferred to think that their livestock lived long and happy lives while producing the milk so necessary for human consumption, instead of being bred just to be eaten.

When we awoke we found that it was close to milking time, so we followed the two Rons down to the milking shed. No-one hand-milks any more, unless they only have a couple of cows, milking machines are much more efficient and help avoid mastitis and improve the health of cows. It always surprises me to see that although cows don't have a clock, even if they could read it, they all start to walk down to the milking sheds at the right time, and we call them dumb animals!

The two Rons went from cow to cow like a well-oiled machine, attaching the teat cups to each one and flicking a switch to start the milking process. The teat cups are cleaned between each cow to help avoid passing on any infection. It was fascinating to watch. The milk is stored in large vats and picked up by a large tanker the next day where it is taken to a factory for processing including pasteurisation.

I knew that the large supermarket chains were selling some of their milk at a cheaper price per litre than bottled water, which astounded me. I really wondered how people like the McDonalds managed to make a living dairy farming, and certainly, it could only be done by great efficiency on the part of the farmer. Even then some left the land. Aunt Peggy did some shifts in the Yack supermarket to help with the family's finances, and I suspected that when Flora qualified as a nurse, she might be making a contribution as well. It seemed to me that the most obvious solution was to increase the retail price of milk and hence the money returned to the farmer, but the power of the large supermarket chains is such that they call the shots and dictate what they are prepared to pay for the products they purchase. This applies to many of the items they buy, not just milk. Anyway, I'm an actress, not an economist; I leave such things to my husband, but he did agree with me it didn't seem right.

We returned to the homestead for a light tea and sat around the fire and chatted for a while about all that was happening in our lives. Farmers retire early because they have to get up early in the morning, and we were not loathe to retire to bed early too. The following morning after a hearty breakfast which we consumed about an hour after the two Rons were already out working, Aunt Peggy took us to Yack to have a look around while she did some shopping.

Yack is a lovely little town with a population of less than a thousand. It was once an alluvial gold-mining centre, but now is very popular with tourists and also a number of artists. There is plenty of visitor accommodation and I can't recommend it highly enough. Goodness me, this is starting to sound like a tourist brochure! Reggie and I certainly enjoyed our visit. We had a light lunch in one of the many cafés before heading back to the farm.

That evening, we went down to the local footy oval for their training session. Reggie was really looking forward to his time with the local team. Officially known as Yackandandah Football Netball Club, unofficially it is known as the Roos (i.e. short for kangaroos). The two Rons took Reggie with them, and we three women drove down later to watch the club train. I noticed that there were quite a number of young women watching the fit young males running and leaping in the air to catch the ball. Perhaps it wasn't surprising!

To my untrained eye, Reggie seemed to be doing very well. He caught the ball a number of times, which I later learned was called 'marking'. Each end of the ground has two large goalposts with a shorter one on either side of them. I learned that kicking the ball between the large posts was a 'goal' and worth six points, but a ball passing between a large pole and a short one, or hitting either post, was called a 'behind' and worth only one point. After some tuition, Reggie tried some goal kicking and seemed to handle the oval ball very well, with some very straight kicks through the tall posts.

As we were standing there watching, Aunt Peggy said to me “That's 'Snow' Brown the club president coming over to see us.”

The man in question who still looked quite fit and about fifty years of age had jet black hair – perhaps that was the origin of his 'reverse nickname'.

“G'day Peg, Flora,” he said, “This must be Mrs Staunton.”

“Call me Harriet, please,” I responded.

“It's a pity you don't live here; that young man of yours would make an ideal ruckman,” said 'Snow'. I had no idea what he meant of course, but nodded sagely and decided I would ask Reggie later.

“He plays football and cricket for York University back home,” I said, proud of Reggie''s sporting achievements.

“Yeah, I heard you were from the Old Country,” said 'Snow'.”Well, if you ever want to migrate, you know where to come to, this is 'God's own Country'. Actually, I was going to ask you a favour; my wife Marge is over there and she loves the theatre. I hear you're an actress, so I wondered if you'd mind coming to have a word with her?”

“I'd be happy to,” I responded. I assumed Aunt Peggy had mentioned that the family had gone to Melbourne to see me perform. 'Snow' led me across to his wife, a plump pleasant woman. She looked a bit awestruck meeting a 'real actress', as she put it and when we shook hands for one awful moment I thought she was going to curtsey! Fortunately, the moment passed and I engaged her in conversation.

“Peg told me you were performing in 'Romeo and Juliet' down in Melbourne. That must have been wonderful to see,” she said wistfully. “We've got a local amateur dramatic society, I make some of their costumes; occasionally touring companies come to places like Wodonga or Albury, but it's nothing like seeing a play in one of the city theatres.”

“Do you get down to Melbourne much?” I asked her and instantly regretted saying it.

“Not often,” she replied. “It's a fair way and a bit expensive when you have to stay over.”

I found myself feeling instantly sorry for her. “The Princess Theatre is a wonderful place. I'm sorry the season is over now, but if I'm ever performing in Melbourne again, I'll ask Aunt Peggy if you and she can make the trip down and see the play as my guest,” I said.

Apparently she relayed this promise to Aunty Peggy, although she said. “I don't suppose she'll remember with all she has on her mind.”

I'm pleased to say Aunt Peggy responded. “I don't know about that, she has a marvelous memory.”

I didn't forget Marge, in fact, I'd exchanged Christmas cards with her, told her what I was doing and sent her a DVD copy of me performing in 'Romeo and Juliet' which she wrote was the next best thing to seeing it live. When I knew I was returning to Melbourne about five years later, performing as Katherine in 'The Taming of the Shrew' at the Princess Theatre and again staying at the Windsor Hotel, I contacted Aunt Peggy, asking if she could bring Marge down for a performance. This she was happy to do, so I organised two good seats for them and also booked a room with two single beds in the Windsor for them to stay overnight.

I met them when they arrived at the hotel and we had a light lunch together. It was obvious that Marge could scarcely contain her excitement. When Aunt Peggy had a moment with me on her own she said: “I can't let you pay for all this, it isn't fair.”

“Please, Aunt Peggy,” I responded. “You came to England twice when we really needed you and both Emma and I agreed that nothing we could ever do for you would even slightly repay you for your kindness. Please let me do this for you and for Marge too.”

Aunt Peggy saw the look in my eyes and relented. “Oh, very well. I know you mean it kindly and I really appreciate it and so does Marge. She's been talking about it for weeks.”

The performance went well, and at the conclusion, I could see Aunt Peggy and Marge standing and clapping in the front stalls as we took our bows.

I've never forgotten the look on Marge's face when Aunt Peggy brought her round to my dressing room after the performance. 'Thrilled' doesn't begin to describe it. She came over and gave me a hug.

“That was the best night of my life,” she said.

"Don't tell that to 'Snow'," I said, and we all burst out laughing.

When I was ready, we went to the Supper Club to complete the evening. I signed her program with 'To Marge, Best Wishes, Love, Harriet.' .

“I'll treasure it as long as I live,” Marge assured me.

The following morning we had breakfast together before they took the bus back to Yack.

There's a sad ending to this story. About six months later I had a phone call from Aunt Peggy. “I thought it was only right to let you know that Marge passed away this morning,” she said. “She had been ill with cancer for some time. 'Snow' said it was very peaceful. In her final days when I visited her, we spoke about you and she said some very nice things which I won't embarrass you by repeating. She also spoke about our trip to Melbourne to see you perform. At that time she knew she didn't have too much longer but she made me promise to say nothing to you about it; she just wanted to enjoy her last trip to Melbourne and you couldn't have made it better for her.”

I remembered then that she seemed tired and appeared to have lost weight, but I thought she had just been dieting. I asked Aunt Peggy to buy some flowers for her on my behalf, and later, after my eyes had cleared enough for me to see properly, I went out to buy a card and wrote to 'Snow' expressing my condolences. I didn't really expect a response but he wrote me a very nice letter back, thanking me for giving Marge such a good time in Melbourne on what turned out to be her last trip there. 'She said it was the best Shakespeare play she ever saw because she was a friend of the star,' he wrote. 'Thank you so much for what you did for her.'

Of course, that started the tears again. I hadn't really done much at all, but sometimes simple things we do have an effect we never dreamed of. 'Snow' and I still exchange cards at Christmas and I still remember that night with Marge and Aunt Peggy at the theatre.

To be continued